


American Love

by usefulobject



Category: Watchmen (Comic)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Roleplay, Vanilla Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:00:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usefulobject/pseuds/usefulobject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurie and Rorschach spend the day pretending they're normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	American Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kink Bingo 2013, for the prompt "vanilla kink".
> 
> This is basically one of those AUs where Rorschach lives and they're all running from the cops, with some OT3 offscreen. (I have a hard time thinking of those as fix-it fics, since having Rorschach around generally does the opposite of fixing anything.) Perhaps Dan went to the big-and-tall store and got lost in enthrallment at the sweater vests.

Laurie parked herself on the blocky bench, slinging an arm across the back and leaning over to stretch her legs. One foot lazily toyed with the paper handle of a shopping bag plopped on the floor in front of her, her shoe slipping on and off her heel as she closed her eyes and took a deep, content breath.

"Oh! I almost forgot," she said, perking up with a smile that was a bit too wide and eager. "I need new shoes. Look at these things, they're falling apart." It was true the once-slick surface of her patent leather flats had seen better days and the soles had worn almost smooth, but they both knew Laurie didn't _need_ new shoes. They both knew she had at least five more perfectly good pairs packed up in one of her suitcases back at the motel.

The harsh lights of the mall distorted everything just enough that it would have set Rorschach on edge even without this ridiculous ritual. Laurie's skin was too pale, her eyeshadow too blue, her lipstick smeared across her mouth like hot pink war paint. The incessant piddling noise of the fountain next to them fought with the vapid music being piped in from above, and despite the benign nature of the Saturday afternoon crowd waddling and lumbering through, the whole scenario was uncomfortable.

Fat middle-aged housewives grown complacent on canned laughter and microwave dinners. Old saggy men trying to fill the holes in their hearts with golf equipment. Teenage punks in their stupid, stupid outfits, preening like brain-damaged peacocks. He didn't belong here. Neither of them did, but Laurie was all too happy to fake it.

"Come on, _honey_." She tilted her head, a sadistic glint in her eyes.

"Yes, dear," he spat.

And so because not following her might lead to a quarrel, which might make a scene, and when you make a scene people call the police, Rorschach found himself trudging behind her into yet another department store filled with endless shelves of khaki slacks and glass cases full of chintzy jewelry. He could have sworn they were all the same one.

"So, which one?" Laurie asked, holding up a pair of blouses, swapping them in front of her chest. The fact that they came from the clearance rack was her idea of a funny compromise - oh, we'll waste time playing this idiotic game, all right, but not for full price. 

If anything, the lighting in the store was even worse than that in the main drag, and as far as he could tell both of them made her look slightly jaundiced. "Don't know much about this sort of thing," he muttered in the general direction of the floor, trying to avoid the morass of ruffles and lace and floral patterns assaulting his eyes from all sides.

"Fine. Hold my purse a minute, would you?" Laurie dumped it unceremoniously in his hands almost before he had a chance to react, and beckoned towards a saleswoman and began the usual spiel inquiring about what was new or on sale or hot with the young people right now. No matter how many times they'd been through it, he still suppressed a flinch when she got to "…my _husband_ isn't any help, you know?" They'd share a cheap laugh, the woman would probably glance at him with a hint of disbelief that someone as pretty and bold as Laurie would choose so poorly, and she'd ring up whatever polyester abomination Laurie settled on and then send them on their way with an empty, rehearsed farewell.

He turned towards the door ready to march right out in a straight line and possibly off a cliff if that was where it eventually led him, but Laurie grabbed his shoulder. "Not so fast. I still haven't picked out any shoes. And you're getting new socks." When he balked, she added, "We could always go to Victoria's Secret instead."

After the game was finally done and the sky began to darken, pink clouds giving way to grey haze, they drove back to the dingy motel off the highway exit in the car they liked to refer to as "salvaged" from the wreckage of New York. Laurie cursed the faulty cigarette lighter and Rorschach fiddled with the radio dial, searching in vain for something besides static-laden easy listening music and local sports coverage. 

The key took a bit of wrenching before the door surrendered. Home sweet home, for this past couple of weeks anyway. Peeling wallpaper, pressboard furniture, dirty carpet. Two beds, just like _I Love Lucy_ (which Rorschach didn't). Never mind that the three of them usually ended up crammed on one together like a can of sardines. Because the heater didn't work and the blankets were itchy, of course.

There was a scribbled note from Daniel on the dresser apologizing that he might be back late, and promising to bring "pizza or Chinese or something" to make up for it, but the room was otherwise exactly as they left it. That morning Daniel had joked that he wasn't sure if there even was a maid to leave the Do Not Disturb sign for.

The fluorescent lights above the mirror buzzed when Laurie switched them on, causing her to swat blindly at an imaginary bug before she remembered they always made that noise. She undid her tidy ponytail and shook her hair loose, frowning at the brown roots just starting to show past the bleach. "I'm going to go change," she said, and ducked into the tiny bathroom, toting one of the shopping bags with her. 

Rorschach shuddered and slumped against the headboard when he was finally able to put his real skin back on, the clinging warmth smoothing out all the ugly cracks in his disguise. He could feel the blackness swirling with him as he breathed and shifted, telling him he was still alive. _Now_ he was home.

After a minute, Laurie came back out, softly humming a tune he knew he'd heard but couldn't name. She was dressed in plain, modest white underwear, bare of makeup or jewelry, and when she sat on the creaky bed beside him and cradled his head in the crook of her neck, his breath died in his throat and he crumpled in on himself because it was better than he deserved.


End file.
